The Regret in the Departure
by DearnaMay
Summary: Brennan and Booth joyously reunite at the reflecting pool - absense makes the heart grow fonder. But when they immediately get sucked into a chilling case, will they survive their first days back?
1. Chapter 1  The Doubt in the Promise

Temperance looked at her watch, sitting alone at the Reflecting Pool, heavy rain drowning out any other sounds. Her umbrella, though big, was not enough to shield her whole body, and she began to shiver as she counted the 67th minute she had been waiting.

"Brennan!" a voice yelled through the rain.

Temperance turned her head as quick as physically possible, towards the direction of her name.

"What are you doing out here, sweetie?" Angela said, walking towards Temperance, noticing immediately her friend's distress.

"Booth and I were meant to be meeting here. Today." Temperance said, standing up and turning towards Angela.

"It's pouring rain! Come back to the lab, Cam will be excited to see you. I hear that she fired your replacement after he decided that Michelle was 'hot'." Angela grinned, looking for a glimpse of a smile in Temperance's face. 

"That would be rational, I know, but I feel like I must wait here for Booth. I promised." Temperance sat back down, her pants soaking.

"Come on, Brennan," Angela said as she grabbed Brennan's umbrella out of unsuspecting hands, and started walking swiftly back to her car.

"Angela! Please! Give it back!" Temperance yelled after her, standing yet not budging.

Angela stopped and turned to Brennan.

"Come get it."

"No Angela."

"Then freeze and die of pneumonia. I do have a great black dress I just bought."

Brennan finally let a sly smile seep through and took a step in Angela's direction.

"Bones!"

Brennan turned.

"Booth!"

Booth was meters away, but their eyes met, and their energy embraced one another's. They just stood, staring at each other for a few short moments, both with a blank face.

"Well... I can see you have some catching up to do..." Angela smiled, her all-knowing smile, and walked away, back to her car.

Booth and Brennan's eyes didn't move from each other, not even when Angela's car back-fired. Booth started walking towards Brennan, and she started running towards him. Their paths met and they grabbed each other, holding the tightest they ever had.

"I've missed you so much, Bones." Booth whispered in her ear.

"I've missed you, too." Brennan said as she pulled away, ending with her face so close to his, she could still feel his warm breath.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, a force pulling. Brennan looked at Booth's lips. Booth looked at hers.

"So," Brennan said, breaking the gaze, and stepping back subtly, "How was the Army?"

Booth paused, his hopes of their meeting extinguished, unable to fathom words. He turned away from her.

Brennan noticed his hesitation.

"I have heard that your whole base only lost 6 men all year. You must have been an exceptional Sergeant Major."

"Let's... Let's not talk about that," Booth said, gathering his wits and taking a deep breath, "Let's just have a coffee, and make small talk. Remember, 'Nothing really has to change.'" Booth tried to smile.

"Sure. Let's do that." Brennan smiled back and grabbed his arm.

"Shall we?" Booth said in his silly voice and grinned, forcing Brennan to remember his silly sense of humor. She smiled more than she had in the past year. Not because of his silly voice, but because she had him back.

"We shall."

The reunion of two partners was not the slightest bit different to when they had left.

"So, we have a case I hear, Bones." Booth said, finishing his last mouthful of coffee and stood up from the bench they had spent the last half hour sitting on.

"Yes," Brennan said, standing up and smoothing her damp pants, the sun breaking through the clouds, "Angela told me when we were driving back from the airport last week. I have already found cause of death."

"And that is...?" Booth requested and smiled. "I usually get an essay sized report on every detail."

"Sorry," Brennan said, looking down then back up to Booth's face, "A slash-like motion, cracking the clavicle and of which also marked into the manubrium."

"So how did they find her?"

Booth stared at the body, with very little flesh on the autopsy table. Each arm was tied by the wrist to the opposing leg's ankle, across the victim's front; both knees broken and the legs bend back. It was hard to imagine this was a 14 year old child.

"Ouch."

"All injuries, other than the slash to the victim's chest, were postmortem." Brennan pointed out, handing Booth the file.

"Yeah, 'cos getting slashed the boob doesn't hurt." Booth argued, receiving a disapproving look from Brennan that made him smile as he began to read the file.

"I'd approximate time of death at 4 to 5 days ago, according to the larvae's rate of growth." Hodgins said as he walked towards Brennan and Booth.

"Can you pinpoint where?" Brennan queried.

"Not yet," Hodgins said, bringing an image of the magnified feces found on the body, "But I do know that this excrement is feline, and I found traces of corn gluten meal which is commonly found in cheap cat food. There was no houses surrounding in a 15 mile radius of where we found the body, so I'm guessing, the body was moved."

"I agreed with your factual statement, but there is no guessing in science. I hope you are going to adjust to the fact that you are not in Paris anymore." Brennan pointed out.

"Or Kansas, even." Booth said as he laughed at his own joke.

"I don't know what that means." Brennan said, looking at him like he was crazy.

"Okay, how about this: it is statistically unlikely for a cat to walk 15 miles to poop on a dead human body, and not bother to eat it, ignoring its attractive fleshy smell." Hodgins said, shaking his head and walking away.

"What's wrong with him?" Angela said, walking up the stairs to the platform.

"I don't know..." Brennan said, leaning over the table and her eyes glued to the body.

Booth put up both his hands and turned them into mouths, acting out one yelling at the other. Angela giggled and Brennan looked up. Booth immediately moved his hands behind his back and looked away.

"I've been able to do a facial reconstruction," Angela said, turning her notepad around, showing the face of a pretty young child, "I put it through the FBI database and it came up with this."

Angela opened a file on the computer.

"Marisole Marlena Doglione," Booth read aloud, "Born in Italy, 1995, moved to America in 2000. Reported missing 5 days ago."

Brennan looked at the skull sitting before her, then looked at Angela's drawing, then to the computer image.

"I am comfortable confirming the identity of the victim," Brennan said, walking around the table, "Now we have identity, let's get to work."


	2. Chapter 2 The Mother in Despair

"I'm very sorry Mrs Doglione, this must be very hard for you, we understand. But we'll need to ask you some questions about the day your daughter disappeared." Booth said, adjusting his tie and trying to not get emotional due to the mother sobbing in front of him.

"Yes, I understand," she replied, her elder daughter sitting on the arm of her mother's chair, holding her.

"Mrs Doglione, when and where did you last see your daughter on Wednesday?" Brennan asked, slightly uncomfortable with the familiar mood she had not felt in so long.

"Around 4.30. She came back from school and went into her room. Just the usual. I brought her a drink of juice... She was fine... She..."

"Roslene, please. Just tell them." Mr Doglione walked into the room with a tray of coffees.

"Sorry," Roslene said, thinking hard and looking at the ground, "She was in her room one minute, and then I went to check back in on her at about 5 o'clock, to see what she wanted for dinner, and she was gone. I searched the house up and down, I called Luc at work... She was just... Gone."

Roslene broke into tears, her daughter rubbing her back, started crying too.

"Marisole was not one to wander off," Luc said, "You see, my daughter was an outsider. She was strange. She had no friends and nobody at school liked her."

"Dad!" Marisole's sister spoke for the first time since their visitors had arrived. She looked at Brennan and Booth. "My sister, she was pretty, and so nice, but she wasn't like all the American girls. They wanted to be skinny, pretty, have all the latest clothes, and Marisole, all she wanted was a to go back home to Italy. She could barely remember it, but she liked the thought of anywhere other than here."

"If I'm not mistaken, your boots are from Hyndoes." Brennan said, pointing to the girls shoes, then to her own top, "This top is from there. It was $250."

"$200?" Booth said looking at Brennan and examining her top, "You paid $200 for a top?"

"$250 actually, and well yes, it's a very nice top. And I don't find it at all hard to find $250 with my social status as an well-known author. I'm going to be on Wake Up Washington tomorrow morning actually, that could pay for a couple dozen tops."

"Oh, so now you're going to flaunt your money around?" Booth turned his whole body to face Brennan.

"No, but there's no point lying to you."

"I didn't ask for a report of your bank account!"

"I didn't say-"

Brennan was interrupted by Luc clearing his throat, like a teacher calling for attention in a screaming class of children.

"I'm sorry, Mr Doglione," Booth said, nudging Brennan's foot with his.

"Why are you hit-" Brennan said confused. Booth nudged her again. "Oh. Um, I'm sorry also."

There was a slight silence. Marisole's sister looked up.

"I was like those girls. I don't know why I felt that way about everything, I feel so stupid now. Everything's my fault." She said, crying hard. She kicked her boots off her feet and walked swiftly out of the room.

"Possibly, you could come back later? Isobel is very distressed." Roslene asked, after patting her eyes with a tissue.

"Sure, we have all we need for now." Booth said as he stood and looked to Brennan.

"Yes," was all Brennan could manage to think of to say as she stood, feeling foolish.

"Please find who did this to her, Agent Booth." Roslene said, standing up for their respectful exit.

Brennan and Booth walked past the couple and Brennan turned.

"Do you have a household feline, Mrs Doglione?" She asked.

Roslene looked at Brennan, confused.

"A cat." Booth corrected.

"Oh, yes. Marisole's. His name's Sorriso. It's smile in Italiano." Roslene smiled herself, "Sorriso's been wandering around since Marisole... left. She reminds me of my Marisole."

Brennan turned back to Booth and whispered, "We need the cat, Booth."

"No, Bones, didn't you hear?" Booth hissed back, "It reminds her of her daugher. We can't take it."

Brennan gave Booth an annoyed look. He gave her one back. Brennan sighed and turned back to Marisole's parents.

"May I please look in your back garden for excrement?" Brennan asked.

"Disposal, waste," Booth added, "Poop."

Roslene looked at her confused, "Sure..."

"Thank you."

…

Brennan handed the bag to Booth as they walked back to the car.

"Why do I have to carry the poo that you wanted so badly?" Booth said giving it back to her.

"It's for Hodgins, Booth. Don't be such a pre-developed homosapien, it's just excrement." Brennan said handing it back to him.

"Baby," Booth laughed and stopped walking, "You mean, don't be such a baby."

Brennan ignored him and quickly continued talking.

"Anthropologically speaking, I would find it hard to believe that in today's society based purely on a person's looks, someone with a facial structure as balanced and smooth as Marisole's was as they say 'unpopular' or a 'nerd'." Brennan said opening her door, as Booth just reached his.

"Uh, maybe her and American girls had cultural differences. Her sister pretty much spelt it out." Booth said opening his door, "Let's go talk to the teacher, eh?"

They both got in and Booth started the car.

"You really paid $250 for that top?"


	3. Chapter 3  The Lack in the Humor

Brennan looked to the large building directly in front of them, as the pulled up at the gate of Hillmorton Junior School.

"FBI," Booth said flashing his badge. The gate keeper nodded and opened the entrance, "Nice to say that again, huh, Bones." he smiled, flipping his badge in his hands then blowing on the top like a newly fired gun.

"You're going to poke someone's eye out," Brennan said, dodging his flying badge case.

"You're just jealous," Booth smiled even wider, taking off the hand break and driving into the school. He drove into the carpark, and began looking for a park.

"There's one..." Brennan said, pointing to an empty space, quickly filled by a group of students in a Cadillac, "Too slow."

"I'm not slow," Booth said honking his horn, the students just laughing and walking away, "And come on, they're what, 15? Why do they need a Cadillac? I mean, I was fine with my dad's old car when I was their age."

"The term, 'When I was their age,'" Brennan said, looking out her own window, "Is mostly used by society's elders, showing wisdom and comparison to history whi-"

"Are you calling me old?" Booth said turning to Brennan, still looking out her window, despite his obvious feelings she was being confrontational.

"No, I'm just stating that-"

"I'm not old!" Booth said strongly as to end the discussion.

"You're angry."

"I'm not angry! Can we just do our job please?" Booth said, turning back to the wheel.

"You always tell me I'm too focused on work, and when I try to make small talk - Oh, there's another one," Brennan said, pointing to one across the huge carpark, "Oh, too late."

"To hell with this," Booth said, putting his car into reverse and driving back, into the janitor's reserved park. Brennan looked at him disapprovingly. "What? It's not like a person that works as a janitor would even own a car."

Brennan opened her door and got out, followed by Booth.

"That is a fairly misleading statement," she said as they walked to the main building, "The caretaker at my high school was fairly well off, and he owned three cars. Though not all so attractive."

"It's quite scary how much you know about him," Booth said, reaching in his jacket to pull out his notepad as they reached the door.

Brennan stopped, and looked at him, reading his notepad slightly behind her. She opened the door and he walked through.

"Oh, what a gentleman." Brennan said, walking in after him.

Booth chuckled, "That was funny, Bones. Where did that come from?"

"I would take the credit for myself, but I saw it on a movie: Jump the Gun. However, I am becoming quite humorous." Brennan said as they walked towards admin.

"Funny, Bones," Booth said, putting his notepad back in the inside of his suit, "You're becoming funny."

As Booth walked to the admin desk beside them, Brennan mouthed to herself the word 'funny', trying to figure out its popularity with Booth over humorous.

"Let's go, Bones," Booth said, tapping her on the shoulder nearest him, "What're you doing?"

"Nothing," Brennan said, and grinned, "See I'm being _funny, _seeing as it is physically, mentally and genetically impossible for a person to do nothing."

Booth chuckled to himself.

"See, I am! You're laughing. People laugh at jokes."

"I'm not laughing at..." Booth said, smiling wildly, "Never mind, come on."

"We find it better for the less capable students to keep one teacher all year, as it helps them bond, and studies conducted by our own adjacent University have shown that a trusting relationship can involve and encourage a student. Blah, blah, blah. You know the drill. Though obviously it's true, as I personally helped with the study." Mrs Whitebell said, sitting swiftly down at her desk, despite her old age, and offering with a gesture for Booth and Brennan to sit.

"That study was inconclusive. They found no scientific evidence but the opinions of students, and I for one do not find that 'evidence' at all scientific," Brennan said, turning to look for a seat and finding only student desks.

"If you were to read the study and report, you would find as much conclusive evidence to fit up your-"

"Woah, excuse me?" Booth said, surprised at a teacher's response to criticism, "Can we please keep this professional?"

"Yes, if Mrs Know-It-All here can manage it," Mrs Whitebell said, looking to Brennan.

Brennan crossed her arms and looked at Mrs Whitebell's name, engraved on the desk.

"I find that quite surprising."

"What?" Mrs Whitebell examined Brennan's face.

"The Mrs." Brennan smiled to Booth.

Booth looked at Brennan shocked at what he had heard.

"See, I'm humorous. I mean - funny." Brennan said, and then looked to Mrs Whitebell, confused at her angry look.

"How dare you!" Mrs Whitebell exclaimed.

Brennan panicked, "No, it was a joke... I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Let's keep the 'humor' to me, huh Bones?" Booth said, "I'm very sorry, Dr Brennan won't speak the rest of our visit."

"Hmph." Mrs Whitebell looked from Brennan to Booth and nodded.

Bones uncrossed her arms and turned to Booth, "But I-"

"Bones..."

Brennan re-crossed her arms and breathed out heavily, sitting down in the school desk, though with a bit of trouble.

"So, what was Marisole like in class?" Booth asked Mrs Whitebell, leaning against the desk Brennan sat down on, blocking her vision and hearing a mutter of annoyance.

"She was one of the quite ones, never put her hand up, never spoke to anyone," Mrs Whitebell replied, opening her desk drawer and pulling out a painting, "She painted this," Mrs Whitebell handed a picture of a wolf to Booth and it took him a moment to realize it wasn't a photo, "I asked her to join the after-school art club, but she didn't want to."

"May I keep this?" Booth asked, with Brennan behind him, straining to see.

"Sure." Mrs Whitebell nodded, "She had real potential, sad to see it go to waste, her dying and all"

Booth shook off the slightly cold comment. "Did Marisole have any friends in the class? Anyone try talk to her?"

"Nope, they all learnt their lesson when one boy tried. He told her that he thought she was cute, and when she ignored him, he touched her shoulder. She screamed the whole building down." Mrs Whitebell said, "If you don't mind, I have a meeting I should get to."

"Yeah, sure." Booth said, "Sorry to hold you up."

"It's fine. I don't mind a young man like you making me late." Mrs Whitebell smiled, looking Booth up and down, making him uncomfortable.

"I have to get back to the lab now," Brennan said, standing up so quickly that her bottom got stuck and the chair fell over, her with it. Booth turned at the loud noise and Brennan quickly stood up, brushing it off.

"Okay, lets go." Booth said handing the teacher his card, "If you hear anything, Mrs Whitebell, please call me."

"Sure." Mrs Whitebell said, smiling and standing at their departure.

"Goodbye," Brennan said, quite literally pushing Booth out the door.

When they got outside, Booth shut the door and turned to Brennan, but before he could speak, Brennan smiled and said: "She was flirting with you, Booth."

"Just don't go there," Booth said, deciding to change the subject, "Guess what. We learnt some vital information, Bones."

"What?"

"There was a boy involved." Booth said, proud of his find, though very obvious.

"Should we talk to him?"

"Yes, Bones. We should." Booth said, sighing.

"I'll go ask Mrs Whitebell for his name..." Bones went to grab the door handle.

"No, Bones," Booth said, grabbing her wrist, "We don't need another cat fight in there. I'll call her when I get back to the office."

"Oh, okay." Brennan said, starting the walk back to the car.

"We learnt something else too, Bones." Booth said, following her.

"What?"

"You should keep the humor to minimum."


End file.
